


say you'll love me

by snapdragonpop007



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Omega Will, We think, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, is Hannibal a serial killer?, loudly implied cannibalism, probably, where does this fit into canon?, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapdragonpop007/pseuds/snapdragonpop007
Summary: There were two things Will Graham noticed when he woke that morning.One--Hannibal wasn't in bed.Two--Will was going to throw up.





	say you'll love me

When Will Graham woke he noticed two things that morning.

One. Hannibal wasn’t in bed, leaving his side of the sheets cold and Will grasping at his pillow and blinking awake to Hannibal’s faded scent and the sight of a blue pillow case as he held the pillow to his nose. 

Two. His stomach was rolling and his throat was actively working to keep down acid and bile and the remains of a Beta who wouldn’t back off from Will last night. 

Will had thrown the pillow off the bed and tossed the blankets and sheets away, jumping out of the warm nest in his rush to get to the bathroom. He fell to his knees on the heated tile, threw open the toilet seat and gripped the sides of the bowl tight enough that his knuckles were white, dunking his head in as he threw up everything in his stomach and then some. Then he was dry heaving, and Will hung there until his gag reflex finally figured out there wasn’t anything left to throw up. 

Will sat there for a moment. 

He didn’t think he was sick. He didn’t feel feverish, and the encephalitis was long gone. He was at least 78% sure Hannibal hadn’t poisoned him, and it wasn’t like he was allergic to anything. 

Will sat, and swallowed, and flushed the toilet, and stood. He went to the sink, stared at himself in the mirror as he swished some water around his mouth, spit it out and then brushed his teeth, then swished some mouthwash around for good measure. 

He felt perfectly fine now.

He would think it weird, but this had been happening most of this entire week.

Maybe he was sick. 

Will looked at himself in the mirror for a moment longer before wandering back into the bedroom. He didn't worry about it before and he wasn't going to worry about it now. He picked Hannibal’s sweater from yesterday off the chair and slipped into it, holding the collar close to his nose in an Omegan urge to scent.

He blinked, dropping the collar of the sweater. Will shook his head, leaving the bedroom to walk down the stairs and wander into the kitchen. 

Hannibal was hovering over the stove in nothing but his absurdly expensive pajama bottoms, leaving the bruises and scratches Will left last night of full display. 

A pleased purr worked its way into Will’s throat, and he swallowed it before it could leave his mouth. 

“Good morning, dear heart.” Hannibal greeted him warmly.

“Morning.” Will’s voice came out raspy, and he cleared his throat as he went to the kitchen island to snag the cup of coffee Hannibal had left him. 

Will could still taste a bit of the stuff he had emptied out of his stomach. Gross. 

Hannibal frowned. “You vomited this morning.”

“Just a bit.” Will leaned against the island and took a sip of coffee. There was no point in lying about it—Hannibal had a weird sixth Alpha sense for whenever Will was distressed or sick that usually caused him to drop whatever he was doing and make sure Will was alright.

That, and he could probably smell the overabundance of mint on Will’s breath. 

Sure enough Hannibal was at his side in an instant. He took the coffee from Will and pushed up Will’s bangs, placing the back of his hand on Will’s forehead. Will whined, leaning into the Alpha's touch. 

It felt nice.

“You’re not feverish.” Hannibal mumbled. He moved his hand to cradle Will’s jaw. 

“I probably just slept weird.” It was a lame excuse, but Will was much more focused on the hand on his jaw and how incredibly nice it felt. 

Hannibal frowned. 

Will leaned forward to nuzzle Hannibal’s cheek, purring ever so softly. 

Hannibal could preach all he wanted about how in control he was and how he rarely if ever gave in to his Alpha urges and instincts, but Hannibal Lecter melted every single time Will nuzzled and batted his eyes and purred. 

“I’m fine, I promise.” Will pressed a closed mouth kiss to Hannibal’s lips for good measure. 

Hannibal brought his hands up to run his fingers through Will’s hair, giving it a gentle tug. He kissed Will’s temple, mumbled something in a language Will didn’t know, then went back to the stove. 

He took the coffee with him. 

Will huffed. He wasn’t going to fight Hannibal on that—he was still feeling a little queasy if he was being honest—so he got himself a glass of water and sat on the counter next to the stove in retaliation. 

Hannibal smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his neck, right over the scent gland.

Will felt a sudden urge to dig his fingers in Hannibal’s hair and pull him close, wrap his legs around Hannibal’s waist and hold him there until Hannibal bit him and claimed him—he _needed_ to be claimed—

Will’s fingers twitched against the glass, and he chugged half of it in one go, blurting out an _I’m fine_ before Hannibal could say something. 

Hannibal clicked off the stove, moved the pan of eggs and sausage off the burner, then slotted himself between Will’s legs. He took the glass and set it off to the side, taking Will’s hands in his own and lacing their fingers together. 

It felt really, really nice. 

“Will, my dear heart,” Hannibal trailed off, waiting for Will to continue.

Will gave a soft sigh. “I’m just feeling a little off, that’s all. Nothing to get worked up over.” 

“I will always get worked up over you.” Hannibal squeezed Will’s hands. Will leaned down to kiss him, tilting his head to get a better angle. 

They weren’t mated or claimed, because Will wouldn’t let Hannibal take the bite. He wasn’t ready for it. This whole thing between them was still new—they were still learning each other, still learning to navigate this strange dichotomy of worlds they lived in, still learning how to love each other without suffocating each other. 

Hannibal hummed into the kiss, moving his hands down to rest on Will’s hips. Will leaned into it for a moment before pulling back, letting his own hands fall on Hannibal’s waist. 

“I’ll cancel my appointments.” Hannibal mumbled it, his lips ghosting over Will’s.

“You don’t need to do that.” Will pressed their foreheads together. “You’ll go to work, and I’ll go to work, then I’ll go home to take care of the dogs and you’ll follow me and then we’ll both bitch about work while drinking your stupidly expensive wine.” 

Hannibal breathed out a laugh. “Or course, my dear.” 

Will kissed Hannibal again. “Go dish me up some breakfast, I’m starving.” 

Hannibal just smiled. 

 

—

 

“You will call if you feel ill.”

It wasn’t really a question; more of a demand. 

“Yeah, I will.” Will leaned over the console of the Bentley and pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s neck to appease his Alpha. He was trying to stomp down that urge to coddle and pacify, and he was doing a rather shit job. “Try not to kill too many people at work today.” 

Hannibal gave a soft sigh. “You are insufferable.”

“You love me though.” Will grinned as he unbuckled the seat-belt. 

“With everything I have, my dear.” 

Will paused. Then he smiled, low and soft.

“Love you too, you sap.” Will mumbled, leaning over to kiss Hannibal. Hannibal lifted his hands to cup Will’s jaw, tilting his head and deepening the kiss and pulling back just when it was starting to get good.

Will whined and chased after him.

“I do have to go, Will.” Hannibal kept his voice soft, running his thumb along Will’s cheek bone. 

Will sighed. “Fine.”

He pressed another quick kiss to Hannibal’s cheek, then tumbled out of the car. Hannibal gave him one last smile, then drove off.

Will watched him go. He felt a whine trying to leave his throat, and he swallowed heavily around it. The Omega was screaming at him to not let his Alpha leave; to hold him back and bracket him against his chest and nuzzle and purr and bring both Hannibal and Abigail to his nest and keep them there and Will didn’t understand _why_ —

He needed coffee. 

Will spun on his heel and stomped into the building, cutting though halls and rooms to get to the break room quicker. 

There was a fresh pot, thank God, and Will poured himself a full mug and chugged half of it. 

“Jesus, Will, slow down.”

Will jumped. He hadn’t realized Beverly was there. 

“Haven’t had coffee yet.” Will mumbled. He pulled the mug away from his mouth, running his tongue along his teeth. It had a gritty feel. Will took another sip from the mug and didn’t taste it. He had definitely burned his mouth. 

Beverly laughed. “Your boyfriend didn’t give you some?”

“He did,” Will frowned. He probably shouldn’t have chugged it. “But he took it away.” 

“Wonder why.” Beverly hummed.

Will turned his frown to Beverly. She gave him a bright smile. “Come on, Jack wants us in the conference room.”

“Oh, good.” Will huffed. He let Beverly loop her arm with his and drag him off, ignoring the wrongness of how it felt and how he smelled lilac instead of sandalwood and the pang he had for Hannibal.

Maybe he should have stayed home. 

“Will?” 

Will blinked. He hadn’t realized he had zoned out.

Beverly was frowning, brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah—Yeah, I’m just feeling a little off.” Will gave her a smile. It felt incredibly forced. “I just need some water.”

Beverly didn’t look like she believed him, but made a detour to the water cooler. Will filled the little plastic cup and downed it, then filled it up again and downed half of that. He felt hot, and he was getting queasy again. 

“Do you need me to call Hannibal?” Beverly put a hand against his back to steady him, bringing her other hand up to grip his arm. He hadn’t realized he had been swaying.

“No--no, I’m good.”

“Will, you look like you’re about to faint.” 

Will hummed, taking a small sip from the cup. His stomach lurched, and he held the cup to his lips a moment longer before pulling it away. He pushed it at Beverly, untangled himself from her, then darted off to the bathroom.

His knees were going to be bruised with how often and how hard he had fell to the bathroom floor today. 

Will slapped his hand against the side of the stall as he threw up his breakfast and the coffee and the water. It burned his throat and he choked and sputtered on it before he spit it out. Will groaned, throwing himself back over the toilet as more bile worked its way up his throat. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Beverly came into his field of vision. She still had the cup of water. He took it from her and poured the rest in his mouth, swishing the water around and then spitting it out in the toilet. “You’re fine my ass.”

“I am.” Will grumbled. He leaned back, twisting himself around to lean against the wall of the stall. 

Beverly was squatting on the other side of the stall with the most disappointed frown Will had ever seen. “No, you’re not.” 

Will sighed. He felt fine--just like he had that morning--but he didn’t necessarily want to argue with Beverly about it. He could win an argument with Hannibal easily enough, but his typical manipulation techniques wouldn’t work with Beverly. She knew him too well, for one, and she was, as she said _not weak to your Omegan wiles, Will. Hannibal might be but I’m not_.

Her words, not his. 

“I’ll go home after Jack’s meeting.” Will looked down at the now empty cup. He wondered if he could siphon some gum off of Brian. 

Beverly groaned. “You—fine, fine okay.” 

Beverly also knew she couldn’t win an argument against Will. It was a strange stasis they had. 

She helped Will up, keeping a firm hold on his arm as they left the bathroom. They stopped by the water cooler to get another cup, and Will cradled it to his chest as they walked into the conference room. 

“You look like shit.” Jimmy grinned at Will as he circled the table. 

Will eyed him. “Thanks.” 

“That’s because he threw up.” Beverly glared at him as she pulled out her own chair and fell into it. 

“You’re sick?!” Brian spun around in his chair to look at Will. “You don’t get sick!”

“I’m not sick.” Will was getting rather tired of saying that. 

“I just watched you throw up in the toilet.” 

Will looked back at Beverly, frowning. Beverly just arched her eyebrows at him, hand twitching towards her phone. Will glared, daring her to pick it up. Beverly huffed and pulled her hand back. 

“Maybe you’re pregnant.” Brian said. 

“Omega men are more prone to morning sickness.” Jimmy hummed, propping his elbow up on the table and dropping his chin in his palm. “Did you throw up earlier this morning?” 

Will frowned at Brian. “I am not pregnant.”

“Do you and Hannibal use condoms?” Brian asked.

Will flushed. “That's not—“

“Do you?”

“No, but I’m on—“ and here Will took a pause.

He _wasn't_ on suppressants. Sure, he had been, but when the encephalitis flared up the doctor had him come off them, otherwise they would have affected the cocktail of drugs he was on to bring down the swelling and hallucinations and general craziness. He hadn’t been able to get his suppressants refilled yet, but surely he had been on them long enough that it wouldn’t matter.

But then there was the fact that he had been throwing up almost every morning this past week, and now the recent dizziness. And the stupid urge he had to mate and nest--something he had never really had outside of the few heats he had had. And this morning with the whole thing with not wanting Hannibal to leave and feeling almost threatened by Beverly.

“Geez Will, I wasn’t actually being serious.”

Will blinked dumbly at Brian. 

Beverly’s eyes widened slowly, and Brian let out an audible gasp.

“You’re not actually—“

“I need to go.” Will cut Beverly off, standing quickly enough to knock the chair over. “Tell Jack I went home sick.” 

“Will, wait--”

Will was out the door before Beverly could finish. 

 

\--

 

He had ran to the nearest convenience store, looking like an absolute madman as he slammed a pregnancy test and a twenty down on the cashier's counter--then caught a cab back to Hannibal’s house. His phone had been ringing and buzzing almost nonstop from texts and calls from Jack and Beverly, and Will threw it on the kitchen counter as he ran up to the master bath. 

His hands were shaking as Will tore open the box, and a few minutes later he was hunched over the counter, staring at two little red lines.

“Shit--”

Will fell back into the toilet seat. His hand was shaking even more, and he had to set the test down on the counter before he dropped it.

He was pregnant. He was fucking _pregnant_. 

He had never actually expected it to happen. His doctor had told him his chances of conception were close to zero because of how long he had been on suppressants and how often he had taken them. It had not been a huge loss—Will had never wanted kids until he met Hannibal, but they had Abigail, and Will has happy with that. He loved her. Abigail was his daughter, and that was that.

Yet there was a part of Will that was overjoyed. There was a part of him that had always wanted a biological child--a child with Hannibal--and now here he was, having it handed to him.

Will gave a small smile and dropped his hand to his stomach, but it fell just as quickly.

What would Hannibal think? 

Yeah, they had Abigail, but Abigail was a teenager. She wasn’t a baby, and she didn’t live with them--hell, _Will_ didn’t even live with Hannibal. Did Hannibal even like babies? Did he know how to take care of a baby? Oh god—what if Hannibal didn’t like babies? Would he make Will get rid of it? Will didn’t want to get rid of it. This was a baby, his baby—

Will had a horrible thought that he might just kill Hannibal if he wanted this child gone.

“Will?”

Will snapped his head up. 

Hannibal was in the doorway of the bathroom, worry etched on his face and mixing with his scent. “Beverly called me—“

“I’m pregnant.” Will blurted out. 

Hannibal snapped his mouth shut. 

Will felt a whine work its way into his throat, and he swallowed it back down.

Hannibal took slow steps forward, and Will had to fight the urge to curl up into himself. He sat perfectly still, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the edge of the toilet seat as Hannibal knelt in front of him. Hannibal slowly lifted his hands, letting them hover over Will’s abdomen before sliding up his shirt and resting on his skin. 

Will flinched back, filled with sudden thoughts that Hannibal would just _squeeze_ , but the Alpha did nothing. 

He kept his hands perfectly still.

“Are--are you mad?” Will’s voice came out in hardly more than a whisper. 

“No, I--” Hannibal broke off.

Well, this was a first. Hannibal Lecter, left without words. 

Hannibal drew his hands back, leaving Will’s skin cold. He looked up at Will, dropping his hands on top of Will’s and giving a gentle squeeze. Will felt another whine in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t quite keep this one down. It came out sounding frightened and small, and Hannibal reached up and placed a hand on the back of Will’s neck.

“No, Will. Never.” Hannibal applied a gentle pressure, and Will melted.

He fell into Hannibal, bringing his own hands up to dig his fingers in Hannibal’s hair. His legs were parted to straddle Hannibal’s hips, and Hannibal pulled Will closer until he was sitting in the Alpha’s lap. 

Will let it happen, clutching onto Hannibal and taking in deep breaths and trying his best to pretend that he wasn’t crying.

“Do you want a child, Will?” Hannibal asked this softly once Will had calmed down, his fingers trailing up and down Will’s spine as he pulled back.

“Yes! Yes of course I do!” Will’s arms circled tight around his stomach almost of their own accord, and he looked down. Away from Hannibal. “But I don’t--it’s not like we lead the safest of lives--” 

“I wouldn’t let any harm come to our child.”

The Omega in Will purred in happiness. He had picked a good mate, one who would protect and care for him and his child and provide for them and give them everything they could ever need or want--

Will swallowed. “You--do you want a kid?” 

There was Abigail, of course, but a seventeen year old was vastly different than a baby.

“My dear heart,” Hannibal cupped Will’s jaw, tilting his head up so Will had to look at him. “Surely you must know that I want to have everything I possibly can with you.” 

Will felt his cheeks grow hot. “Even a kid?”

Hannibal smiled gently, pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of Will’s mouth. “I would want nothing less.” 

 

\--

 

Later that night, as they lay tangled in sheets and slick with sweat, Hannibal let his fingers skim across Will’s sides as he curled up against Hannibal’s chest.

“You’ll have to move in. That house of yours is hardly suitable for a child,” Hannibal spoke softly, voice just hoarse enough to tell exactly what he had been doing. “And I’ll have to claim you, at the very least.” 

Unmated and unclaimed Omegas who were pregnant or had children weren’t completely unheard of, but it was certainly a death sentence if you were. Unmated Omega’s with children were seen as a liability, and Will could very well lose his job at the academy because of it. 

Will hummed. “Just claiming?”

“I wouldn’t mate you unless you were ready for it.” Hannibal answered, dropping his hand well below Will’s waist. “And I know you wouldn’t hesitate to use those beautiful fillet knives of yours.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn't.” Will propped himself up on his elbow, dropping his head in his hand as he looked Hannibal over. “I think I wouldn’t mind it though.” 

Hannibal’s hand stopped wandering.

“The dogs would have to come with me, of course.” Will continued on, smiling at Hannibal’s sigh.

“Yes, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of long winded hannigram stuff im writing, but I keep doing little filler stuff like this
> 
> that, and omegaverse hannigram is my one (1) guilty pleasure in life. that, and Hannibal using sappy endearments.


End file.
